


A Wee Bit Awkward

by GracieA_Reviews



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Sad, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieA_Reviews/pseuds/GracieA_Reviews
Summary: All Cara wanted to do for her last two years at Hogwarts was eat her bodyweight in candy, watch the Slytherins fail at Quidditch, and pass with semi acceptable grades. But now her friend expects Cara to set her up with Fred Weasley and something about that doesn't sit quite right with her. "Is he looking at me?" "No." "You didn't even look!" (SLOWBURN)
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Katie Bell/George Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	1. Cupid Messed Up

"Is he looking at me?"

"No."

"You didn't even look!"

It was rather unfortunate that the noise emitting from the Great Hall wasn't enough to block out Jessica's whines. Her higher-pitched voice seemed to sail through the laughs and shouts, clear and annoying as it always was at eight in the morning. With a sigh, Cara lazily glanced towards the two redheads that sat further down the table, talking fervently to the third redhead and messy-haired boy across from them. Neither, as she suspected, were looking remotely close to where she and Jessica sat. It was the same routine each morning and Cara honestly wasn't sure why she put up with it anymore. Jessica fidgeted anxiously next to her, trying her best not to look at them—or, should Cara say, him. For the past two years, it'd been like this and Cara was seriously beginning to wonder if Cupid shot ten arrows at her friend's arse; however, instead of falling in love with Fred Weasley, Jessica became infatuated with him.

Every morning, Jessica would meet her outside the Gryffindor common room (mind you, Cara could never meet Jessica outside the Ravenclaw common room in case, Merlin forbid, Fred decided to leave at the same time as them when they weren't there). Together, they'd walk to the Great Hall and part ways for a few minutes. Jessica would hurry towards her friends at the Ravenclaw table while Cara slumped into a seat across Alicia and Katie at the Gryffindor table. Katie and Alicia were already giving her pitying looks as she poured herself pumpkin juice.

"He's not even looking in our direction," Cara stated, stabbing her eggs with a tab more aggression than necessary. Katie was desperately trying to muffle her laughter at murderous look that twisted Cara's delicate features.

Cara couldn't help it, though. She'd been having to deal with this for the past _two_ years. _Merlin_ , she wondered in horror, _how many more years until she can move on_.

Clearing her throat, and pulling Cara from her thoughts, Katie nodded in agreement, her brown curls flying with the movement, "He's really not, Jess."

Cara felt Jessica slump beside her and knew she was staring at her porridge with dreadful sorrow. Glancing towards the Ravenclaw, she saw that Jess was lifelessly twirling her spoon through it. Nothing new today, it appeared. Muttering a prayer to whoever it was that got Jessica to shut up, Cara turned to Katie and mouthed a quick 'thank you'—to which the younger girl nodded understandingly, a small grin on her face. It was almost like Jessica had her own personal cloud form over her head and each dramatic sigh that escaped her lips, the attention of those surrounding her was caught. Cara struggled not to roll her eyes.

"Why don't you just talk to him?" She asked, not liking the tears that were beginning to rim Jessica's dark blue eyes. The girl was far too sensitive for her own good. The smallest of things caused tears and distress, even when they weren't needed.

"Because," Jessica huffed, wiping at her eyes, "I want him to make the first move."

 _Holy shit_ , Cara thought, her brows lifting to heights she'd never known they could reach. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Alicia choke on her tea as Katie dropped her toast, her mouth open and showing the food she'd been chewing. Blinking a few times, trying to process the pure _stupidity,_ that just came out of her _Ravenclaw_ friend's mouth, she turned to Katie and Alicia, and mouthed a simple 'what the actual fuck'. Alicia slowly nodded in agreement, her brown eyes wide, and Katie hid her laughter behind a cup of pumpkin juice.

"You know that's a bit…ridiculous, don't you?" Cara said, testing the waters and cursing herself with a feverish vigor when the tears returned to Jessica's eyes.

"No, it's not!" Her sharp squeal most certainly did catch the attention of people, and Cara was most certain that she saw red hair turn to them with a look of interest. Jessica flushed when she realized just how loudly she had spoken and quickly lowered her voice, "It's…well, we have had conversations before."

"You saying 'hello' every now-and-then doesn't count." Cara stated.

"Yeah, Jess," Alicia jumped in, "He needs to get to know you."

"But, how?" Jess moaned, shoving her face into her hands, "We don't—when can I actually speak to him?"

It was rather perfect timing, Cara had to say, for at that exact moment, Fred and George decided that it would be best to visit them. With an almost cocky aura, the two approached them, a mischievous grin pulling at their lips. Cara felt herself shift over, subconsciously making room for the older twin as he squeezed himself between her and the person next to her. Without breaking pattern, Fred threw his arm around her shoulders and brought her against him. It was clear he didn't notice the hurt that flashed across Jessica's face, or the grimace that covered Cara's.

"Well, hello, ladies," The twins greeted, and Cara glanced at Katie—who seemed quite flustered, but content, that George took a seat next to her.

"Hello," Cara said, picking up her pumpkin juice and taking a sip. There was no point in shaking Fred's arm off. He'd merely put it right back—he was quite stubborn and seemed to find joy in frustrating Cara. Trust her, she's tried to get him to knock it off.

Jessica flushed a bright red when Fred's eyes passed over her, nodding in a greeting but refusing to speak. _Merlin_ , Cara raised a brow at the interaction, _this girl has so many expectations._ Fred's brows furrowed in confusion, most probably wondering why she never spoke to him but spent hours staring at him with hearts in her eyes. Of course, the moment his attention turned to someone else Jessica looked as though someone told her that Oscar Wilde was an atrocious writer.

"Are you ready for the Quidditch match this weekend?" Katie asked, catching everyone's attention and, though Jessica still looked depressed, it was less obvious than before. Fred's eyes sparked with delight at the question. Not that that was new. The coffee brown always seemed to become warmer, like an amber color, whenever they spoke about something he was passionate about.

Cara felt him scoff rather than heard it. She was too focused on not catching the deadly glare Jessica was sending her way. _It's too early for drama_ , she thought, running her fingers through her hair. Sometimes, for a Ravenclaw, Jessica wasn't the brightest. In her world, the only reason Fred spoke to Cara was because he wanted to become closer to Jessica. Weird, yes. Did Cara really care, not particularly.

"Of course we are," Fred said, pulling Cara tighter to his side as he leaned forward, "The Slytherin team absolutely blows this year."

"Did you see who they have as chaser?" George continued, eyes wide with disbelief, "Robert Kinwhile."

Cara felt her mouth drop open when she heard that, laughter bubbling from her chest. Brushing a strand of light brown hair ( _it's caramel for Cara_ , her youngest sister would say) behind her ear, she said, "Isn't he the guy who kept walking into doors and walls in our third year?"

Alicia's face lit up, clearly remembering the student who would ram into doors before realizing that he had to open them to get into the classroom. Shifting in her seat, clearly enthralled that they chose such an idiot to be their chaser, she pulled a piece of parchment from her robe pocket. Cara didn't bother to read it. From the barely legible chicken scratch, she knew it was Oliver's plan to destroy the Slytherins. A shoulder knocked hers, catching her attention, and Jessica motioned her head towards Fred, still rather unhappy that his attention wasn't on her. With large, pleading eyes, she silently begged Cara to do something to get his attention back on her. By the grip Fred had on her—which was from the excitement of the upcoming match—Cara knew he wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon. Pursing her lips, Cara tilted her head back and forth as she glanced around the Great Hall, contemplating what to do.

She didn't want her exit to be too obvious, then Fred would know that something was up. Though, would that really be horrible? A part of her didn't want to leave, if she were being honest. Not because Fred's arm was on her shoulder—most definitely not because of that—but because she was tired. Getting up was so much work. Finally, her eyes landed on the person she was looking for, the bright gold of her robes shinning under the light.

"You owe me," Cara whispered to Jess, before wiggling out of Fred's grasp and going to stand up. Just as she straightened her shoulder's, a familiar weight wrapped themselves around her and she found herself sitting once more. Fred was cheekily grinning at her, lightly tugging at her brown locks.

"Where're you off to, O'Hara?" He asked, and Cara swatted his hand away.

"Oh, you know," She sighed with mock exhaustion that mingled with pity, "My darling younger sister has just motioned for me. It appears she needs my assistance—you know how helpless they can be."

Fred's body shook with laughter, his hair falling into his eyes and a dimple indenting his left cheek. It was clear he didn't believe her and she didn't expect him to. Amy nose was deep within whatever book she brought today, her hand twisting the black hair on the top of her head.

"Then you mustn't keep her waiting," He teased, running a hand through his hair, and Cara watched with a hidden envy as it merely fell back into place. Surely, that couldn't be natural…could it? Fred had to be using some sort of product, "But don't be gone too long, I need my Potions partner."

A smile of her own crossed her face as she slipped from his grasp, placing her bundle of books and quills under her arm. It felt odd to be staring down at him for a change and Cara wasn't sure if she liked it or not. She wasn't used to people looking up to her.

"Of course not," Cara badgered, "Someone's got to make sure you don't mess up and melt the cauldron."

"Oi!" Fred barked, the anger he was trying to convey melting away faster than Snape's smile, "That was one time in second year."

"Sure, it was." Cara smiled, waving goodbye to the rest of her friends and heading towards the Hufflepuff table.

Plopping down next to sister, Cara struggled to keep the scowl off her face when she noticed that Jessica hadn't made any motion to talk to Fred. In fact, she'd actually shifted further away from him, her face red and fingers twisting amongst each other.

"She make you leave again?" Amy, her sister, asked, barely glancing from her book.

"She doesn't make me do anything," Cara stated, snagging a piece of toast off Amy's plate. She was sure she heard Amy mutter 'yeah, right' under her breath, but ignored it. Instead focusing on spreading just the right amount of marmalade.

Not a lot of people believed that Amy and Cara were twins. With hair that rivaled the night sky and eyes the color of the ocean on a storm day, there wasn't a lick of similarity when it came to Cara's light brown curls and hazel eyes. The only thing that gave people the inkling that the two were related was their nose shape. Small, almost button-like (their Mum said called it The Duchess shape, which made Cara feel quite regal, mind you), it consorted their features and made them appear more delicate than they really were.

" _My little pixies!"_ Their Mum would call them as their Dad paled at the creature comparison—he was the one, at the time, who knew what real pixies looked like. Needless to say, he was not pleased by her choice of creature.

"Whatever makes you feel better, Charlotte." Amy said, and Cara gagged at the use of her full name. Their Mum told their Dad that it was her childhood dream to name her children like she was living in the 1800s, but Dad hated a majority of the names. Still, her wanted their Mum to be happy so he went along with it as long as he could give them nicknames. Cara originated from Charlotte just as Amy derived from Amelia.

"Shut up, Ames," Cara snarked, her words muffled by the toast she shoved into it. Amy's nose crinkled in disgust as bread crumbs landed on her book and Cara felt some sort of satisfaction. Without so much as a word, Amy brushed them off.

"I don't see why you still hangout with her," Amy continued, "She's really quite horrible."

Cara shrugged, hurriedly grabbing the untouched water next to her sister and gulping it down. _Too much toast_ , she thought.

"I don't see her enough to really care."

A fact that was absolutely true. Cara had, at most, two classes with Jessica and she didn't even sit with her in either of them. The only times she really ever saw, or spent time with, Jessica was breakfast and sometimes lunch. The two weren't even great friends, if she was being honest. They only knew each other from sitting in the same compartment first year. Jessica had been the one to explain the houses to Cara and Amy with detail.

Amy hummed in consideration, and Cara followed her sister's gaze, landing on the blonde haired Ravenclaw and redheaded Gryffindor. Jessica was twirling a strand of her hair and laughing a bit too loudly for it to be considered normal. Fred wasn't sparing her a glance despite her attempt. In fact, Cara jerked back in surprise when amber eyes caught her marsh colored ones. Fred winked playfully before blowing her a kiss, causing the people around him to laugh (Jess's was obviously very fake by the pitch it reached). Without really thinking about it, Cara swatted it away. Mock hurt flashed across his face as he clutched his chest, and Cara rolled her eyes, smiling fondly.

"Merlin, watching you two makes me sick," Amy snickered under her breath, and Cara didn't hesitate to flick her ear, smiling at her soft yelp.

"Whatever—have you seen Ben?" Cara asked, changing the subject as her eyes skimmed over the length of the Hufflepuff table in hopes of spotting a first year with unruly brown hair. Normally his obnoxiously high-pitched voice was easy to distinguish, but, strangely, Cara couldn't hear it anywhere.

Amy shrugged and began to pull her shoulder-length hair into a high ponytail.

"Not since this morning," She said, "He flipped me off in the common rom when I told him to brush his hair."

Cara laughed at that, not surprised in the slightest. Since coming to Hogwarts, her brother had been trying different style types. It wasn't even midway through October and the poor lad's still didn't know his 'flow'. Amy hated his current choices, thinking that he looked like a ragged drunk when he didn't brush his hair, but Cara was all for it. He was 'expressing himself'. Their Mum would be so proud.

"Shame," She struggled to say without giggling, "Mum accidentally sent me his pack of Bertie's. I was hoping he had my licorice wands."

"If he did, he's probably eaten them by now." Amy stated, her voice shaking as she jammed her book into bag. She tended to keep an unusual amount of stuff in the satchel their Mum bought her their first year. There were hair ties, candles, candies, quills, pens in case she couldn't find a quill, tissues, Chapstick, Cara could go on for hours. Cara swore she saw a crystal ball in there once. Ben didn't believe her.

A scowl twisted her features at the thought, "He better not've."

"Just buy some when we go to Hogsmeade," Amy said, and Cara swung her legs to the other side, standing up a few seconds after her sister. While Amy shifted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, Cara ran a hand through her hair, frowning with the knots caught her fingers. She'd become use to this happening and simply relaxed her hand, dropping it to her side.

Cara shrugged and the two headed towards the door. Sometimes it bothered Cara that she wasn't in the same house as her sister. That way they'd have the same classes and things would be like how they were back in the Muggle world, or when they were home. But Amy held so many Hufflepuff qualities that Cara wasn't surprised when The Hat sorted her there. Amy, however, swore that The Hat made a mistake and that Cara deserved to be in Ravenclaw. Their Dad laughed when Amy told him that.

From the corner of her eyes, Cara saw Fred notion his head towards the door as Amy and her passed. George nodded and, not a second later, they were heading towards her and Amy with Alicia and Katie at their sides.

"Charms?" Cara checked once they stood outside the Great Hall.

Amy nodded, "Potions?"

"Yep," Cara snagged a quill that was sticking out from Amy's bag, "Meet for Care of Magical Creatures?"

It was one of the only classes the two shared. While Amy needed it for her future plans, Cara just enjoyed Hagrid's way of teaching. She thought the hands-on approach was genius (not to mention it could get her out of class) and he was a fun teacher. How could she not take it when there was a chance she could become friends with a Bowtrunkle?

"Bring the sugar quills?" Amy asked, and Cara grinned.

"Only if you bring the dark chocolate."

A shout of her name caught their attention, and the attention of those remaining in the Great Hall, but Cara ignored the tenor voice. Amy ever-so-slightly nodded her head in the direction that Fred was rapidly approaching and Cara merely shrugged. _What's his deal this year?_ Amy silently seemed to ask and Cara responded with the only answer she had:

_I don't know._


	2. Shagging In The Cupboard, Eh?

There was no doubt in Cara's mind that Jessica would give anything to be in her position: Fred not even three inches away from her—so close that his cologne surrounded her and, somehow, masked the revoltingly acidic scent of armadillo bile with cinnamon and smoke.

 _Wait_ , Cara paused at the thought, her hand pausing as it reached for the Scarab Beetles. While cinnamon _did_ happened to be part of Fred's cologne (and, surprisingly, a scent that fluttered through the Burrow—which was the nickname given to the Weasley home—every time she visited) smoke was _not_ part of the fragrance that followed him. _Little twat_ , she scowled, _what'd he do this time?_ Cinnamon and smoke—a scent that reminded her of the bonfires her family had when they all came back from Hogwarts—meant that Fred either planned a prank or played a prank.

"What's with the scowl, O'Hara," Fred asked cheekily, his arm brushing against hers each time he sliced the ginger root. Feather-like, barely noticeable, Jessica would've melted into a puddle by now.

Cara merely rolled her eyes before leaning over and checking how much Ginger Root he'd cut. Telling him that she knew he was up to something often led to her becoming part of whatever mess he ended up in. Their second year at Hogwarts, she noticed that he a smudge of blue of his cheek and when she asked him why…well, she'll just say the Filch isn't a fan of the color anymore and that's how Cara got her first detention.

 _One, two, three,_ Cara tilted her head, utterly confused by the lack of ginger root. The potion required six pieces in total and she wasn't unaware of Fred's hand slipping into his pocket every now-and-then as he chopped. Honestly, for the past three years she'd been stuck with him and it was in their third year that she noticed a few pieces would go missing now and then. Sometimes a few porcupine quills fell onto the floor and were never found, other times he accidentally cut too much off the daisy root. Truthfully, Cara didn't even _want_ to know what he and George were up to.

"We need more ginger root," Was what she said, glancing over to him. Whiskey-colored eyes stared down at her and Cara's brows shot to her hairline, jerking back in surprise. _How in hell_ , she mused, not understanding _when_ and _how_ Fred managed to get so close to her without her knowing. She could practically see the sheen of the light red stubble that was beginning to grow on his cheeks, and the connect the constellations his freckles made, "Down boy."

Fred snickered at Cara's odd way of telling him he was too close, but moved back a bit—not a lot, mind you. Cara was still close enough to see the different shades of brown contrasting in his iris and the slight crook of his front teeth—which appeared to be perfectly straight when he was further away.

"Don't fear, love," Fred lopsidedly grinned at her, "I'll get the ginger root for you."

Cara scoffed. A part of her desperately wanted to say, ' _you wouldn't need to get more if you would just stop taking it'_ , but she held her tongue. Calling him out in the same room Snape was only spelled trouble. It was like Snape was trained to hear Fred's confessions. Even when he wrote them on paper, Snape was coincidentally walking past them at the current moment. Sighing, Cara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The caramel curls snagged on the ring that decorated her index finger, but Cara barely winced the sharp ache that shot through her scalp. Too many years she delt with her Mum trying to brush the locks and she swore the nerves on her scalp were damaged beyond repair. Someone could stick a needle there and she'd honestly just blink.

"Thank you, kind sir," Cara said and, though her attention shifted from Fred's playful gaze, she still held a teasing note in her voice, "I hope your journey isn't too painful."

Whatever he responded with was lost to her. The strange thing about being friends with Fred and George Weasley is that it was incredibly easy to tune them out. For hours upon hours upon hours, the two would talk and joke and mess around and rant. It happened without really thinking about it. Cara would be doing who-knows-what, listening to their blabbering and then it would just…vanish. When she told Liam, her oldest brother, about it, he simply said it was a talent older siblings had. Perhaps that's why many people thought she was a bit ditzy—because she barely paid attention to what people around her were saying. She was too focused on what they were doing.

Liam called her a 'People Watcher' because of this, and Cara thought it was a badass name. Ben liked to say that she was paranoid… sometimes he called her insane but it really depended on his mood. Either way, she still found it pretty wicked. When they were younger, before their Hogwarts letters came and all, whenever Ben called her that, she'd have Amy flicker the lights while she cackled. Liam got a kick out of it but she had to stop. Ben began to get night terrors that she was a witch. Funny, right?

Dumping three Scarab Beetles out of the jar and into the mortar, Cara held back a shudder of disgust. She _loathed_ them. Liam 'accidentally' locked her in a closet that contained a cockroach when she was younger. She swore she'd been in there for hours but her Mum told her that it was actually thirty minutes (didn't matter, though, it was her trauma). But, ever since then, she couldn't stand looking, or being around, anything that held an appearance that was _remotely_ similar to cockroaches.

Slowly, Cara pressed the pestle against them. A soft crunch echoing through her ears each time she managed to crush a Beetle, or a large part of it. It was grossly like the sound of miniature bones breaking. _Snap, crunch, crunch_ , Cara tried to ignore as she rolled the pestle through the mortar. Earlier in class, Snape told them that he wanted their powder to be the _actual_ powder: no chunks, no twitching legs, not remnants of shells _. Baby powder_ , Cara reminded herself _, make it look like baby powder_.

And, so, she did. The whole process took about two minutes and once she was satisfied with how it turned out, she pushed the mortar over to her right. Fred already placed the cauldron between them (probably sometime during Snape's directions). Her fingers grasped blindly for the hairband that she thought she placed on her wrist earlier that morning. _Fuck_ , she cursed herself, remembering that she'd given it to Hermione earlier that morning. The poor girl's hair frizzed up to heights Cara could only dream of reaching.

Leaning back, Cara whispered to Angelina and Alicia, "Do either of you have a hairband?"

"No," Angelina shook her head, the ponytail her onyx locks were in swished behind her, "I only brought one—sorry."

"It's alright," Cara waved her off, turning her attention to Alicia and raising her brow in question, "You?"

Alicia didn't hesitate to slip the thin, black hair tie off her wrist, "You're lucky we have practice today or I wouldn't have any extras."

"What can I say?" Cara said, giving Alicia an overexaggerated wink as she took the hairband, "Luck favors the wicked."

Angelina barked a laugh, "Cara, you have the _worst_ luck."

Scoffing, clearly offended that Angelina pointed that out, Cara combed her fingers through the back and sides of her head, piling the sun-kissed curls on the top of her head.

"I do not," She denied, pulling the band off her wrist and twisting it around the makeshift bun. Strands of hair immediately fell the moment Cara moved her hand, but she didn't care enough to fix it. It was potions class, Snape was going to insult her one way or the other and it's not like there was anyone she needed (or waned) to look nice for.

"You fell down the stairs your first week," Alicia pointed out, giggling, and Cara rolled her eyes. Still, the familiar burn of an oncoming flush had her turning her head away, refusing to meet Angelina and Alicia's playful stares and mischievous giggles.

"I didn't see the book."

Which was true—Cara honestly hadn't. She wasn't sure if it was the excitement of her first week of classes or the fact that she wanted to get to the Danish pastries before everyone else, but Cara went from hurrying down the stairs to tumbling down them. Amy wasn't surprised in the slightest when this happened, walking past the group of students who were gaping at Cara's body at the bottom of the stairs. It was almost like they were expecting her to be dead. But, when she felt her sister's foot nudge her shoulder, Cara was up and walking into the Great Hall like nothing had happened.

The soft, chill breeze that roamed the dungeon soothed Cara's burning skin. Sighing with content, she reached into her pocked, grasping the smooth, polished handle of her wand and delighting in the warm feeling that emanated up her arm. Her wand, the love of her life, her true best friend, the only reason she was passing Transfiguration. Amy often told her that she envied the design of her wand and, Cara wasn't going to lie, she could see why. Vines coiled around the wand, running from few inches from the top down to the handle, where they intertwined to form a tulip-like handle.

"Merlin, Fred," Cara muttered under her breath when she saw that her partner had yet to arrive with the _one_ vial of ginger root, "Who are you shagging in there?"

Pointing her wand at the burner resting underneath the cauldron, Cara whispered, " _Incendio"_

Fire licked from the tip, igniting the burner. Tucking a wispy curl behind her ear, she slid her wand back into her pocket and rested her elbows on the table, standing in a semi-slouched position. The weathered pages of _Advanced Potion-Making_ , crinkled and shifted with every sigh of air. Ink splattered the pages, food smeared and grease stains tainted the sides and corners of the pages. Every now-and-then, Liam's rather elegant handwriting was written above directions, explaining an easier way to make the potion, and doodles filled some of the pages. To save money, Amy and Cara took turns using Liam's old textbooks. Cara used them on the odd years, while Amy used them on the even.

"Cara," The whisper called from behind her. Confusion coated her features, and Cara pursed her lips. "Cara, hey!"

From the corner of her eye, she could see Snape was busy harassing another Gryffindor, Katherine Monroe. Carefully, ever so carefully, Cara leaned back so that she could hear whatever Alicia wanted to say.

"What?" She hissed, before ducking forward and dropping into two pieces of the chopped ginger roots. If Snape was going to yell at her for something, it wasn't going to be for her lack of potion.

"Where's Fred?" Angelina asked.

"How should I know? He offered to go get more ginger root and then he vanished." Cara's eyes never left the cauldron. N.E.W.T.S were coming up and Snape was showing no mercy. Though he said this potion wasn't going to be _too_ difficult, Cara knew that it meant the exact opposite. His tricks were old. Saying one thing but meaning the other was juvenile and, if he wanted to catch her messing up, he needed to step up his game. Still, Fred's disappearance was rather inconvenient and, to be frank, annoying. The concern that flooded her veins was quickly replaced with irritation, her once kind thoughts dripping into sarcastic words, "What if he's lost. I know this castle's big and confusing, and his brain is so small."

That was a blatant lie. Fred had this rare intelligence that made Cara want to go 'ooh' and 'ahh' whenever he actually used his brain. With his cauldron melting days behind him, Cara truly thought he could thrive in the class. He understood why you would put certain ingredients into a potion, how changing certain ingredients would chance the potions, and she had the strongest suspicion that he knew he'd been experimenting over the summer.

Opening her mouth to quip another snarky comment, she froze when the familiar smell of cinnamon and smoke invaded her senses. _Goddamnit,_ Cara swore, _God-fuckin-damnit_.

"Awe, O'Hara," Fred's smooth tenor voice cooed, and Cara grimaced as his warm breath brushed against her ear. _When did he get back?_ She clenched her jaw, furious that she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings. She was a 'People Watcher', not a 'Person Getting Watched', 'I didn't know you'd be so worried about me—it's really quite touching."

Taking a deep breath, Cara braced herself before turning to face him. Fred looked _way too_ smug. His arms were crossed across his chest and a smirk tilted his lips. The vile of ginger root hung lazily from his left hand. _So close,_ Cara lamented _, but so far._

"Course I was, you were gone for," She checked the imaginary watch on her wrist, "Five minutes." He'd been gone for much longer than five minutes, a fact they both knew to be true, "That must be a new record for you, yeah?"

If it had been any other guy (yes, she was including Slytherins), their face's would've been twins with a freshly cooked lobster, and steam would be coming from their ears. But, of course, she wasn't partnered with any other guy. She was partnered with Fred Weasley, and he was looking at her with a rather amused smile as his arms crossed over his chest. There was this… _sparkle_ in his eyes. This _emotion_ that Cara couldn't quite place… and she wasn't sure if she liked it.

"Actually seven," Fred casually corrected, "And if you want to know, you're more than welcome to find out."

If Cara had been any other girl, her face would've flushed at the innuendo Fred so openly said. She would've looked away, cleared her throat, or pretended that she hadn't heard him. But Cara wasn't any other girl, and she met Fred's grin with one just as cheeky.

"I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, however," She opened her hand and Fred stared at the palm questioningly, "May I please have the Ginger Root."

"Of course, O'Hara. Anything for the queen," Fred teased, digging the root out of his pocket and placing it on her palm.

Cara rolled her eyes at his words, a smile tugging at her lips. Angelina and Alicia weren't exactly being quiet with their whispers and giggles, but Cara didn't pay them any attention. Instead, she carefully poured the Armadillo Bile into the potion. Fred doodled aimlessly on a spare piece of parchment. Curiosity gripped her when she noticed how focused he was. His brows were slanted downward, eyes hard, and lips pursed as his right hand hurried across the paper, his chin resting in the palm of his left hand. _Maybe he's writing something_ , she pondered, _maybe it's a love note_.

Carefully, acting as though she was simply reaching for the Scarab Beetles, Cara leaned forward. Whatever he was doing, he was writing it awfully small and, since his writing was already illegible to begin with, it was nearly impossible to read. Still Cara persisted. The thought of Fred writing a love note was too good to pass up.

"What are you doing?" Fred mumbled into his hand, not even bothering to glance at her.

Unabashedly Cara said, "Trying to find out who your lover is."

"Why?" Fred asked, a smirk playing his lips and his eyes the shade of whiskey as the light from the fire reflected in them, "Jealous already, love?"

Cara laughed as she grabbed the mortar. Gently sprinkling in the powder, she waited until the potion's blue color changed to red.

"Nah, not yet," She joked, "I'm still trying to figure out what there's to be jealous of."

Fred didn't waste a moment to answer, "My good looks, of course."

Cara poured in the remaining Armadillo Bile and watched as the red turned yellow, "You mean your brother?"

"George and I are identical…though I must say I lucked out on the looks."

"Hate to disappoint you, Weasley," Cara said, adding the four pieces of Ginger Root that Fred took a quest to find, "But I was talking about Ron."

Fred's face twisted as though he'd just sucked on a lemon, "Ickle Ronniekins? Merlin, O'Hara, I always knew you needed glasses but I didn't realize your vision was that bad."

"Jokes on you, Weasley, I got my eyes checked over the summer and it turns out they're absolutely perfect."

"You might want to get a refund, then. They've obviously made a mistake."

Cara scowled at his remark, aggressively stirring the potion clockwise twelve times and watching as the green returned back to yellow. Her second year at Hogwarts ended with her nose broken. Fred and George wanted to show her the basics of Quidditch—not that she wanted to learn, anyway, mind you. Fred had just released the bludger and George, not realizing that Cara was distracted by the ball looking to kill, threw the Quaffle at her. In their version, she stared at it, squinting for a few minutes before it. However, Cara remembers the Quaffle smacking her in the face right when she turned to look at it. Both boys were an apologizing mess and Cara waved them off, explaining that this wasn't the first time her nose had been broken. Amy hypothesized that the whole glasses joke was to make them feel a bit better about what happened. Though, Cara didn't understand why Fred was still carrying the guilt. There was no sign of damage thanks to Madam Pomphrey's great work (and disgusting potion—seriously, Cara almost threw up).

Dropping into her seat, Cara pulled her wand back out of her pocket and lazily flicked it, watching the small, different colors magic float effortlessly from it. She noticed that Fred mimicked her actions, sliding into his seat and placing his love letter into his pocket.

"You're coming to the game this weekend, right?" He asked with strange hesitation. Cara tried not to overthink the way it sounded like he thought she'd say no. Where he'd even get that idea, she didn't know. Ever since they made the team, Cara never missed a game…except that time in fourth year when she'd been petrified. Best sleep of her life, but Amy later told her that people truly began to panic when that happened. The Basilisk was only supposed to attack Muggle-borns so, when Cara was found petrified, a whole new sense of panic flooded the school.

"'Course I am," Cara said, looking over at him and surprised to see that he was already looking at her, "Wouldn't want to miss the two best beaters play."

"Your words warm my heart, darling," Fred said, placing a hand on his chest and Cara fought the grin that threatened to pull her lips.

"I was actually talking about Derrick and Bole, but I guess you and George have some skill."

Fred laughed at this, the sound filling the room and catching everyone's attention. He was quite skilled at that—catching people's attention. Wherever the Weasley twins went, people's eyes would linger on them for a second longer than usual. Maybe it was their red hair, a color that contrasted greatly from the sea of browns, blondes, and blacks. Maybe it was their personality, their smiles never leaving their faces and the happiness they caused people to gravitate towards them. Cara wasn't sure what it was, but she knew she was lucky to be his friend.

"You gonna be sitting where you always do?" Fred fidgeted with his wand, spinning it between his fingers like the drummer's from the bands her Mum was a fan of.

"Nah, I think I'm going to sit between Ginny and Hermione instead of to the side of them this time" Cara said, unraveling Alicia's hairband from her stubborn locks. They fell effortlessly, appearing as if they'd been down the entire time. It was the trick of not wrapping the band too tightly. That way, the kinks wouldn't form and mess with your hair.

Fred's mouth opened, the response on the tip of his tongue when a fury of black robes caught Cara's attention. For some strange reason (not really strange, if she were being honest), Snape never liked her or Amy. Whenever he glanced at her, this weird sort of mourning aura filled the room. He was harsher when this happened, not afraid to verbally harass whoever made the simplest mistake.

Today it seemed that nothing was going to be different.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape sneered, his lip curling and his black eyes narrowing in disgust, "Miss. O'Hara. It appears that you've completed your potion."

"Yes, Professor," Cara said.

"You don't need to be so excited to see us, Professor," Fred smirked.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your wise remark, Weasley." Snape didn't even bat an eye. Instead, he looked to the simmering, yellow potion that Cara prayed to Merlin was all right. After a few moments of silence, Snape spoke, "The potions seems…passable, but don't think I didn't notice your disappearance, Mr. Weasley. Detention tonight and another ten points from Gryffindor. Miss.O'Hara."

Cara inwardly cringed as Snape's attention turned to her. Fighting the urge to scowl when she felt the melancholy aura emitting from him. Though his face remained in the same, repulsed smirk, the sadness that flowed from his eyes told a different story. Liam warned her that people watching would only cause her to become more in tune with other's emotions.

"I'm surprised to see you in this class after last year's incident." Snape began.

"You and me both," The snarky remark passed through her lips without a moment's hesitation, her eyes widening in horror as her mouth, once again, worked faster than her mind. From beside her, Cara heard Fred struggle to smother the laugh dying to bounce around the room.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape said, "Your potion is finished, get out."

With a dramatic swish of his capes, Snape stalked towards where George and Lee stood. The two were arguing over something as their potion bubbled over the rim of their cauldron, the shade a sickening purple.

"Well, Weasley," Cara said, collecting her books and stalking towards the door, "Looks like you can return to your lover."

"You're too kind, love." Fred smiled, and Cara hated that he simply had to take five steps before he caught up to her. That was some _bullshit_ , "Don't tell her, but I prefer our conversations."

"Oh," Cara gasped, acting as though Fred's words were truly scandalous, "How cruel. Does she know? I can't become a homewrecker."

The booming laughter, much like the fireworks he was such a fan of, echoed down the empty corridor; and Cara didn't stop herself from joining, her giggles and snorts mixing with his. The familiar weight of Fred's arm rested around her shoulder once more, and he pulled her flush to his side. Cara merely rolled her eyes, but enjoyed the warmth radiating off him. The days were getting chiller as winter approached and Cara was beginning to find herself constantly shivering.

"Wear my jersey to the match?"

"You're pushing your luck, Weasley."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you so much for all kudos, hits, and comments!It's so exciting to check back and see what's been going on and that people like my story!
> 
> Yes, this is a SLOWBURN! Though it may seem as though Fred and Cara's relationship is moving fast, it's not. I always thought that Fred would be a person to convey their affection via touch rather than words. Right now their relationship is just pure, magical, platonic friendship (lmao that pun, I didn't even realize)
> 
> My update schedule for now is a chapter every two weeks that ranges between 2k-4k words. I'm hoping that when I have holidays and stuff I'll be able to post once every other week, but I won't be able to know for sure until the time comes around.
> 
> Please Review! I really love the feedback, even something as small as 'good job!' makes my day! And constructive criticism is welcome!
> 
> Just_looking_for_fanfictions: thank you so much, I'm so glad you like it!


	3. Blue Eyed Babies

"They'd look adorable, wouldn't they?"

Distractedly, Cara hummed in agreement, her eyes never lifting from _The Daily Prophet_ and the notes her Dad left scribbled along the sides. He often left his opinions on the tea-stained pages, telling Amy and her how this affect their family and the Wizarding World. Since Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban (a feat that, if she wasn't so frightened, she'd commend him for), her Dad hadn't been writing notes like he used to. Simple, short, and direct, her Dad merely wrote what needed to be said, and left room for nothing else.

"And imagine if they all wore matching clothes! Oh, Cara, wouldn't that be the sweetest?"

"It sure would," Cara said, her words muffled by the toast she shoved into her mouth. The sicky marmalade clung to the corners of her mouth, and Cara lazily wiped them with her sleeve.

"That's gross," She heard Angelina mutter under her breath, but she didn't bother to send her a glare. The notes her Dad left weren't making any sense— _Colors are simply a shade, yet no one sees the same_ , what was that supposed to mean?

Jessica's obnoxiously high-pitched giggle rang in her ear and Cara had to force herself not to cringe away. How this girl was so awake at quarter-to-seven, Cara never wanted to know or find out. It was too early to start the day with a bright smile and lovesick stares that never seemed to end.

"Whose eyes do you think they'd have? I totally think blue would be so beautiful—"

Waving her hand, Cara brushed off her question, "Yes, blue, whatever."

The elegant cursive that was so familiar to her, that followed her throughout her childhood and a style she often tried to mimic herself on the Hogsmeade permission slip, was slowly _slipping_ to chicken scratch. With each comment her Dad left—each letter—his words became more frantic and disarrayed. _Amy will know_ , Cara tried to rationalize, _she must've already seen Dad's notes, she'll know._

A sharp, dreamy gasp pulled her from her thoughts, catching her attention and forcing her to look towards the culprit. Jessica's dark hair blocked her vision, the French braid perfectly plaited with no loose strands. She was facing the entrance of the Great Hall, Cara didn't need to see who was there. She already knew.

Turning back to _The Daily Prophet_ , Alicia's annoyed glare caught her attention. A small smile tilted Cara's lips when she saw that brunette was staring at Jessica with narrowed eyes. She could understand, though. Despite the fact that Jessica often sat with them in the morning, it didn't make her any less annoying—nor, did it make the mornings enjoyable. Alicia, she knew, liked to catch up with the boys before classes separated them and, with the lovesick Ravenclaw across from her, it made it nearly impossible to have a decent conversation. Each sentence spoken by Fred would be interrupted with a squeal-like giggle and the amount of hair Jessica twirled grew by the second.

"Oh, yes," Jessica hurriedly whispered in her ear as Fred, George, and Lee passed by, the breeze that followed them pulling at Cara's hair (though Cara was certain Fred had tugged a strand in passing as well, the pull was much too strong to be part of the breeze), "Blue would certainly look nice with red."

The newspaper crinkled as Cara struggled to shove it between the pages of her Divination book. Honestly, Trelawny really went out of her way to find the heaviest textbook possible. Jessica's words were barely registering in her brain. With each jab of the paper, another thing to do was added to the mental list that was, unfortunately, growing.

"Red hair looks so much better with blue eyes than brown."

However, that remark caught Cara's attention. Sheer disbelief coursed through veins, her arms freezing and her head tilting to the side, checking to see if she'd hear her right. Across from her, Angelina was staring at Jessica with wide eyes while Katie and Alicia were giving each other the same look. Cara knew they were all thinking the same thing:

_What was this girl on?_

"Jess," Cara started softly, and doe-like blue eyes caught her hazel ones, "You do know that Fred has brown eyes… right?"

A dark flush of either embarrassment or anger, Cara couldn't tell which, flooded Jessica's cheeks. The shade clashed with her fair skin, making her look as though she just sat in the sun for a few hours on a hot August day. She opened her mouth, ready to defend her love or whatever when she quickly shut it, her eyes wide with…anxiety? Cara's brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding why the girl reacted as so when the familiar sent of cinnamon flooded her senses.

"Move your fat arse, O'Hara." Fred said, not giving her the chance to shift as he crammed himself between her and the second year who sat next to her.

"I thought you liked my arse?" She responded without thinking, not missing the sharp glare Jessica sent her. Instead, she merely raised a brow in question, acting as though Fred's statement was the greatest offense she'd ever heard.

"Oh, trust me, love, he does," George snickered from where he sat across from her, managing to squeeze between Angelina and Katie while Lee took a seat next to Alicia.

Fred grinned at his twin's words, "Right you are, Georgie."

Rolling her eyes, Cara snagged the cup of pumpkin juice Fred just poured for himself, taking a large swig. _Trust the three of them to arrive only a few minutes before class starts_ , she thought, amber eyes twinkling as they stared at hers. Cara grabbed the few books she brought with her, thanking Merlin that she had a break between classes today, and stood up.

"Where you going, O'Hara?" Fred questioned, a brow raised above the golden goblet, "I just got here."

"Well, I have to head to Divination."

Disappointment pulled at Fred's face, and Cara was sure she heard him mutter 'of course you do'. While she shared a majority of her classes with her friends, there were a few she didn't. Divination and Care of Magical Creatures happened to be two of them.

"Don't worry," She laughed, catching Amy's eye and signaling that she was about to leave. Amy gave her a nod, quickly pushing the book she'd been reading into her bag, "I predict that I'll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

* * *

Divination, in itself, _was_ a ridiculous class.

Professor Trelawny droned on and on and on and on, and anything that a student said would be considered as correct. That's what came with being a Divination professor, though. You couldn't say that your student was wrong because _you_ couldn't see what they ' _saw_ '. Fred found it hilarious that she actually liked Divination.

" _Finally match your type of crazy, does it, O'Hara?_ " He remarked when he saw her schedule. Only once did Fred share this class with her. Their third year was a riot for many reason, Cara's ability to 'predict' the future was one of them.

Not surprisingly, Gryffindor's tended to stay away from this course. From those she spoke to, Cara learned that there was a very strong interest in becoming Aurors. Thoughts of the future rested heavily on the shoulders of the fifth years. There wasn't much time left to figure out what you wanted to do. She couldn't go from being horrible in Potions, to becoming a world-class Healer just because she felt like it. Well, she _could_ … Cara just wasn't sure if she wanted to. Amy wanted to work with magical creatures but wasn't sure which area, Ben told her that he wanted to be a professor or an Auror, Liam was busy off being a Healer and a pain in her ass.

For a while, Cara _had_ desired to become a Healer. She thought of it first, though. Liam was just lucky enough to be born first. But now…now she wasn't sure. The world was rapidly changing and, while Healers would be needed—would be crucial for the years to come—Cara didn't know if that was her best choice.

Shoving the _dreadful_ thoughts aside, she opened her book to the index and her eyes scanned over the small (they were surprisingly small and Cara often got a headache from staring at them) words that rested in the column. Her partner, a Hufflepuff boy named Robert McGill, copied her actions. The look of confusion on his face was blatantly obvious for all to see.

"Now, take your crystal balls and stare, my children," The soft waver in Professor Trelawny's voice created a hauntingly soothing atmosphere, "Stare and tell me what the future has in store."

Robert blanched.

"Alright," Cara cracked the knuckles of her left hand, ignoring the sharp glare Deborah Cunnings gave her (she never liked that snake of a Ravenclaw). Turning her attention to Robert, whose bright green eyes were begging her for help, Cara held her hands out, palm side up, "We must pray to the spirits and beg them for a sign."

Robert raised an eyebrow, and Cara faltered.

"Fine," She said, rather sullenly, and pulled her hands back. Cara sighed heavily, wiping the coat of dust off the top of the ball, wondering how long it hadn't been used.

Robert was a fairly nice guy and a fairly good looking one. With dark brown hair that verged on black, and freckles that were scattered on his tan skin, Cara honestly didn't mind glancing at him a few times a class period. He was sweet, when he spoke, but he was _shy_. Now, there was nothing wrong with being shy. In fact, Amy was rather shy herself. Cara was used to the soft glances, the facial expressions sent her way, the bright flush, and the thrum of fingers against a book. Amy was, in a very, very strange way, quite similar to Robert; and, Cara knew the only way to relax the air was to crack a joke or two.

At least, that's what worked for Amy.

"Wish we were doing Tarot Cards," Cara muttered, flipping through the pages of the textbook as she tried to find the images that were most interesting to her.

"Yeah?" Robert asked.

"Oh, yeah." Cara nodded, "I'd actually be able to tell you your future then."

That _wasn't_ a lie.

Professor Trelawny made it clear that the 'art of Divination' manifested in many different ways. First, there were the Seers. The ones who were struck with visions of the future and who often had a method of conveying these forewarnings. Drawing, painting, writing, whatever it was, these were the most important and the most sought after. But then, well, then there was so many different types. Today Professor Trelawny had them practicing crystal-gazing, an art that Cara knew she had _absolutely no_ talent in.

Fred was the one who noticed her little trick over the summer of their third year, right before they entered their fourth. Cara had been at the Burrow visiting for a few weeks when Charlie, the second oldest Weasley, gave Fred and George some Tarot Cards to use. Cara'd used Tarot Cards before, but not wizarding ones. She didn't know if before, but the Tarot Cards bought at Diagon Alley were actually incorporated with crushed unicorn horn. Unicorn, in general, allowed a Seer to have visions quicker—have them stronger. The crushed unicorn horn that rested throughout the card helped the reader's inner eye open.

Either way, Cara said a few things that were relatively vague but, then again, a bit too specific to ignore. The cards that Ginny picked was the upside down (or reversed) wheel of fortune, the reversed chariot, the reversed fool, and the upright strength. Simply they meant: _no control/ bad luck, lack of control, recklessness/taken advantage of,_ and _bravery/compassion/focus._ She could never forget the pure terror that marred the younger girl's features, Cara knew she'd probably cry if she was eleven and got cards like that. With a nervous laugh, Cara dismissed the cards as merely a game…only for The Chamber of Secrets incident.

Fred begged her to read his cards after that and Cara did… but put a little twist on them. If she was right, Fred still thought he was going to become a father sometime soon.

"Could you read the cards and tell me who's going to win the Quidditch match?" Robert asked her, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"Wouldn't need to," Cara sent him an overexaggerated wink, "Gryffindor's got it in the bag."

A deep, hearty laugh escaped Robert's lips, his cheeks flushing a soft pink.

"And you're so sure of that?" He teased, his eyes flicking to meet hers before turning to stare at the crystal ball in front of them, "Because I see the Gryffindor's losing."

"Not against the Ravenclaws," Cara smiled as her eyes twinkled with mischief, the hazel appearing more brown than green, "But maybe…just maybe against the Hufflepuffs."


	4. Warm and Cozy and Warm I

It wasn't Cara's intention to come across as an arse. In fact, with everything that happened earlier that day, she thought she handled the situation quite nicely. For one thing, she was calm, cool, and collected—so well behaved that even Hermione Granger had to be jealous. It was only in the safety of her dorm that Cara exploded. Face flushed, brows narrowed, and fists clenched, the book Liam had given her smacked against the wall, a horrendously loud thud echoing around the silent room. Neither Angelina nor Alicia bothered to reprimand her. If anything, it appeared the two girls were struggling to stop themselves from throwing something at the wall, too.

The day started off as Saturday's normally did: Angelina muttering herself at four in the morning as she hurried to get ready, Alicia begging Cara for any leftover chocolates she might be hoarding, and Katie pounding away at their door. Yes, it was the way Saturday's before a Quidditch game always were.

"Please, Cara," Cara struggled to ignore the younger girl who pulled at her sleeves and clung to her shoulder, "I'm begging you— _begging_ you. I'll buy you whatever you want from Honeydukes…I'll even ask my Mum if she can get those coffee filled chocolates."

"Why don't you ever buy more chocolate?" Cara asked, her fingers twisting her caramel-colored curls into a French braid, "Every time we go to Hogsmeade you say you will, but then you end up blowing your money on," She pretended to shudder, "Romance novels and Horoscope predictions. Hey!"

A sharp sting radiated down her arm and Cara scrunched her nose at the discomfort. Even though Alicia's fist had briefly made contact with her shoulder, Cara swore she could still feel it. A dark flush coated Alicia's cheeks, Angelina's snicker in the background only encouraging the color to darken, and the younger girl scowled.

"Don't act like you don't read them, you stupid Aquarius." The dark-haired beauty snapped, her eyes narrowed dangerously, _daring_ Cara to continue.

Which, of course, she did.

"Well, at least _I'm_ not the one who spent my money on it; and, besides, you're being mean to me. Why would I give you my chocolate."

It was rather funny how quickly Alicia's personality changed.

Batting her eyelashes and placing the sweetest smile on her lips, Alicia leaned forward and pulled Cara into a tight hug, "Come on, I let you read your fortune. Please, please share your chocolate with me?"

"Yeah, Cara," Angelina finally joined, "You know it's like her version of coffee."

Which it was. Each person had their own strange habits—or traditions, as Angelina liked to call them—when it came to Qudditch. Angelina, for starters, liked to wake up at four and spend the entire morning revising game plans, stretching, and mentally preparing herself for what was to come. Quidditch for Angelina, in the simplest of terms, was her life. Alicia was more fond of sleeping and preferred to wake up an hour and a half before the game. After tightening her hair in sleek ponytail, she would then go and bother Cara for some chocolate (which Cara always seemed to have…not that she had an addiction or anything). Fred and George, on the other hand, well... it was strange, really. The two loved Quidditch—not to the extent Angelina did, but enough for them to truly want to do well in the game. It was the only time where one would find the two being serious.

"Bottom of my trunk, to the left." Cara relented, frowning with more disappoint for herself than anyone. With Alicia's doe-like, brown eyes and honey-like smile, she always found it hard to say no to her. It reminded Cara of her younger sister, Eloise. Only five and practically the Queen of the O'Hara family. Nobody could say no to her: not her Mum, Dad, Liam, Ben, her. Only Amy seemed to be immune to the puppy eyes and two front-teeth-missing smile.

Alicia let go of her without a second thought, racing to Cara's trunk and rummaging through the stuff. A soft 'aha!' escaped her when she found the bag of chocolates, and Cara snickered. Drawing her attention back to the mirror, she bit her lip as she tried to decide what to do for the game. Luna was insane when it came to these—her team spirit was hard to be beat and Cara was a 'little' jealous of how creative she was. Neville tended to paint his face with the House colors, and Hermione and Ron waved little Gryffindor flags. It was quite cute, Cara thought, that the younger students were so supportive and involved.

"Are you going to wear it?" Alicia's voice pulled her from her thoughts and, when Cara glanced to behind her, she struggled to contain her laugh. Chocolate was smeared across her lips and chin, her cheeks puffed out as she continuously stuffed them with the candy.

"Wear what?" Cara feigned ignorance, deciding to place her attention on smearing two strips of red and gold face paint under her eyes—like the American Footballers her Mum once showed her.

"Don't be cheeky," Alicia scowled, "Fred's jersey."

Even Angelina paused her stretching at that, her hands still wrapped around her sock-clad foot as she stared up at her. Cara tried to force the flush to go down—tried to push away the sudden rush of embarrassment she got from all the attention. It wasn't…uncommon for her to wear a players jersey. Normally Angelina, Alicia, or Katie asked her to wear their jersey as a sign of support—which was something Cara was more than happy to do. As she became better friends with Fred and George, it became a habit for Fred to offer her his jersey; but, he only did so after the others had asked. It was almost like he set it up just to tease her about it.

Cara's gaze drifted towards the maroon and gold jersey that laid atop her comforter. Slightly wrinkled, much too large for her, and with Weasley written in large gold letters, it truly did look comfortable. Plus, she knew that the tight, white turtleneck she wore would only help keep her nice and warm during the harsh winds.

Ah, the never ending struggle.

"Probably," Cara said, pursing her lips as she glanced towards Alicia and Angelina. Katie had gone silent a while ago and Cara figured she went down to breakfast. Almost bashfully, and not knowing why the heck she was, she grabbed the wool fabric and tugged it over her head. Like she said, it was much too big and much too comfortable to say no to, "Don't look at me like that."

"Cara," Alicia cooed, "You just look so warm."

"And snug," Angelina added with the same dopey smile Alicia wore.

"And cute."

"Fuck off," Was all Cara said, hastily grabbing her gloves and scarf before racing for the door. It was a mere hope that she could leave the room and make it to the Great Hall before her friends. The look in their eyes told her she wouldn't even make it out the Common Room door before they'd catch up to her.

"Don't be like that," Alicia grinned, quite cheekily, might she add, "We were just complimenting you!"

Cara scoffed, stepping out of the Common Room and making a sharp right towards the staircase, "Uh-huh, sure you were."

"It just warms our hearts," Angelina smiled, nudging her with her shoulder, "To see you so _warm_."

She was seriously beginning to regret not bringing a coat or a jacket. Maybe Amy or Ben had a spare with them…hopefully they did.

Her sneakers tapped against the steps as she hurried down them, Alicia and Angelina still flanking either side of her. They were still taunting her as well—not that Cara was paying attention. No. Not anymore. Not since she saw Jessica wearing a jersey that looked almost identical to hers. It was only missing the last name.

"Cara!" Her eyes snapped to the side, catching the flash of red and bright smile, "Cara!"

"Ginny," Cara breathed, relieved that it wasn't Fred, or George for the matter. It was like Jessica had a Weasley twin radar and, right now, Cara didn't want to catch the blonde's attention. Even with Ginny calling out her name, Jessica looked far too invested in her current conversation to care that the little sister of her 'true love' was rushing towards her friend.

"You're coming to the match?" The littlest Weasley asked, hurrying her short legs to match Cara's. Without a second thought, Cara slowed down, taking smaller steps and waving Angelina and Alicia to go on without her. The two nodded, and Cara caught a glimpse of them hurrying to the section of the table where Katie and two identical redheads sat.

"'F course I am." Cara smiled, "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Ginny beamed, "Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor—it'll really set the scene for this year."

Cara hummed in agreement, "I think we'll win."

"Yeah?" Ginny asked, looking up at the older girl with hesitancy. Though some may find it funny, Ginny had this strange belief in superstition. Not that Cara could blame her—not with everything that's happened over the course of two years. Even when she visited the Weasley family over the summer, Ginny had these little habits.

For example, once Cara knocked over the salt and Ginny practically forced the older girl to pinch some and throw it over her left shoulder. Many of them were Muggle superstitions, Cara noticed, and she couldn't help but wonder if Ginny shared the same fascination as her Dad.

"Have I ever been wrong?" Cara laughed— _yes, yes she has_ —before changing the subject, not wanting Ginny to overthink a game that had yet to be played "You want me to braid your hair? Angelina told me that it's supposed to be really windy today."

Ginny nodded, "Yes, please!

Coming to a stop behind Fred and Angelina, Cara nudged Fred over and he—without glancing to see who it was—moved. Stepping over the bench, careful not to catch her toe on the edge, she quickly sat down and motioned for Ginny to do the same.

"Oh, O'Hara, love, you're looking as radiant as ever." Cara heard the smirk in Fred's voice before she saw it. In fact, the smirk he wore was incredibly similar to the one she swore she saw flash across Ginny's lips.

Turning, Cara plastered on the sweetest smile she could, even going as far as tossing her braid over her shoulder, "What can I say, Weasley, red's my color."

"That it is, love," Fred said, throwing his arm over her shoulder and pulling her flush against his side. His finger drew back momentarily to tug on the end of her braid before they returned to the same spot on her shoulder, "Though I must say, this particular shade looks incredibly dashing."

"Oi, calm down, lover boy," She laughed, "I already told you I don't plan on becoming a homewrecker. Besides," Cara shrugged him off, "I've got stuff to get done."

"Yeah?" Fred teased, leaning forward and resting his cheek against his fist.

"Yeah, and, besides, don't you have a match you should be focusing on?" Cara playfully shot him a wink, turning before he had the chance to respond and focusing on Ginny's shoulder-length locks, "What're you feeling today?"

"Can you braid the ones that you wore yesterday?" _Double French braids, got it._

"Of course I can."

Without thinking much about it, Cara gently wove her fingers through Ginny's hair. It always amazed her how pretty the Weasley's hair was. In her family, everyone's hair was a different texture and a different shade. The closest she got to having someone with similar hair was Liam. Even then his hair was much too wavy. But the Weasley's…although the shades were different and the lengths, their hair was straight and thick. Don't say that she told you, but Mrs. Weasley's curls weren't natural—she looked fabulous either way.

"Time?" Cara asked, not caring who she got an answer from but just wanted an answer.

"The game starts in half an hour," Angelina responded, "Which means we should go."

With groans and garbles, the surrounding Quidditch members shoveled the last of their food into their mouths and gulped down their drinks.

"See you in a few, O'Hara," Fred said, tugging at the end of her braid one last time, "You better cheer for me."

"I'll just cheer for Weasley so you and George can decide who it's for but…I'll give you a hint." Pretending to lean in she loudly whispered, "It's George."

George barked a laugh, "I'm flattered, Cara."

Not too soon after they left, Ginny and Cara made their way to the stands. Angelina had _not_ been lying when she said it was going to be windy. Although no storm clouds rested in the sky, Cara fleetingly wondered if it was going to storm. Ever since the news that Sirius Black had escaped, the world seemed to be _grey_. Hogwarts held an air of caution, Dementors were everywhere, and people were constantly on edge. The Whomping Willow bended and twisted with each gust and the trees shook with such might Cara worried they'd fall. She wondered if the trees were enchanted not to fall.

"I swear to Merlin that I'm going to get blown out of the stands," She muttered under her breath, smiling when Ginny giggled.

Hiking up the stands and sitting next to Amy—A.K.A one of the only Ravenclaw who never cheered for her team—and Ben, Cara scooched over so that Ginny had some room. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were already quite immersed in a conversation. Hermione leaving it long enough to greet her and ask her how she was ( _"Is advanced Potions really hard?" "Yes."_ ) and Ron waving a quick hello, his face flushing a bright red that Cara thought was from the chill.

"Do you think we're going to beat Ravenclaw?" Ginny's hushed voice was barely audible above the whips of wind and Lee's shouts.

"Definitely," Cara nodded, "If we don't, I think Angelina will probably cry herself to sleep for a month."

"They have been practicing hard lately," Hermione added, "Harry's barely been able to stay awake during Transfiguration."

"That's because it's _Transfiguration_." Ron said, raising an eyebrow and looking at her as though the thought of staying awake was absurd, "Honestly, Hermione, I don't know how you manage to stay awake."

Hermione simply rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Weasley!" Cara shouted, cupping her mouth to make sure that the twins could hear her, "Let's go!"


	5. Is It Neglect Or A Quidditch Match?

Firewhiskey was dangerous.

Within three shots, Cara's memory was a swirly mess of bullshit and lost faces. Her Mum and Dad wanted her to be smart—to know her alcohol tolerance. In England, one could legally drink at the age of eighteen; however, if someone was sixteen and with their parents, their parents could order them a beverage. Cara was neither sixteen, eighteen, or anywhere in between. She was fifteen and two months—nowhere near the legal age. Either way, her Mum and Dad weren't stupid. Her Mum had been fifteen once, and her Dad had once been to Hogwarts. They were neither stupid or unaware of the rebellion that happened when parents were around. That's why they wanted Cara and her siblings to be smart.

So, when Cara and her sister turned fifteen, her Mum and Dad let them try any liquor they wanted in the safety of their home. Cara, of course, chose Firewhiskey. Amy, on the other hand, decided that a chilled rosé was more her style. It was the first, and only, time her parents willingly let her and Amy drink. After that, her Mum made it _very_ clear that the next time they could have a drink was when the two turned sixteen. Her Dad…well, he shot them a wink when Mum wasn't looking.

Anyway, Firewhiskey was pretty great. Sure it burned the shit out of her throat and caused her eyes to water, nose turning red and tongue _burning_ ( _Merlin, why did she take a_ _shot_ _?!)_ , but it was smooth and filled her chest with a warmth she hadn't known before. Cinnamon and cloves lingered on her tongue. A soft blush never left her cheeks.

"Who bought it this time?" Cara's voice was barely audible above the roar of the wind and the cheers from the Gryffindors. They had, like she predicted, crushed Ravenclaw. Harry was stellar, as always. The match, thankfully, hadn't lasted that long. Within the first six hours, Harry spotted the snitch and dove after it, the Ravenclaw seeker quickly following.

"Some seventh year," Alicia said, roughly knocking shoulders with Cara as a first year rushed past them. A wide smile pulled at the first year's cheeks, their Gryffindor scarf waving behind them. Cara wondered if this was their first Quidditch match.

Wood, the current Quidditch captain, was relatively pleased by the team. Normally he'd make them stay after—go over where they could've done better and write down what they noticed about the other team's players. _Everyone_ hated this. They just wanted to go an party, not have mental Quidditch practice. Strangely enough, Wood had been more lenient. Fred swore he got himself a girlfriend, but would only believe that when she saw it.

"As long as it's not Michael Villeneuve, I don't care who got it." Cara stated, a soft smile playing on her lips as Alicia laughed. Amy, on the other hand, smacked Cara on the stomach.

"Shut it," Her black-haired sister hissed, "He's not that horrible."

Cara barked a laugh, "Ames, he thought my name was Liana…and when I told him my name was Cara O'Hara—which he should've known because he was _obsessed_ with Liam when he went here—he told me my name was stupid because it rhymed."

"He's got a point," Angelina snorted.

Cara didn't hesitate to shove her elbow against her friend's ribs, relishing the sharp 'ouch!' that followed.

"You're more than welcome to call me Charlotte, or Lottie, if you so desire."

"Oh, yes, Little Lottie! That sounds quite nice, doesn't it. An accurate description of your height, no?" Angelina teased. Alicia and Katie's giggles chimed through the windy sky, mingling with Amy's snort.

Though Cara _was not_ the shortest out of her 'friend group' (she honestly didn't like that term—it sounded so exclusive), the Mary Jane's girls were required to wear gave them a bit of a lift. Strangely enough, this little lift drastically showed the height difference between each girl. It was like the heels were cursed to point out short some were, and the height of others. Out of Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and (Cara begrudgingly hated to admit this) _Amy_ , Cara was the shortest. Approximately an inch shorter than Katie, if she wanted to be exact.

"Bugger off," Cara playfully frowned, "Besides, we're supposed to be talking about tonight's party—not your issue with my height. And, most importantly, we're supposed to be talking about Michael's gracious decision of supplying the FIrewhiskey."

"Firewhiskey? There's going to be Firewhiskey?" The muffled groans that followed Hermione's question was easily expected. The younger girl was quite strict when it came to school rules and—no matter how much Cara respected her studiousness—she was a buzzkill. Rarely did Hermione attend the House parties and, when she did, she never stayed too long. Huddled in a corner, she only socialized with her friends and anyone who was willing to talk about school.

Cara couldn't really blame her, though. Hermione was a Muggleborn. The world she'd been so rapidly introduced to was one that many people would call—and still called—make believe. Out of everyone, Cara understood where Hermione was coming from. Her Mum was a Muggle and her Dad a Wizard. For the first few years of her life…well, more so until Liam began to display accidental magic. Her Dad was quite strange about that—magic, that is. Despite the claims that Voldemort was dead during a majority of Cara's childhood, her Dad acted as though he were still alive. Careful, making sure never to display his magic, Cara grew up thinking that magic was real, but in a fairytale sense.

She was there when her brother floated the cookie jar to the table and when he accidentally lit a maths practice book on fire (but Cara respected that and remembered being more than happy to watch that cursed book burn). Truthfully, Cara wouldn't be surprised if her Dad wished that his children were born as Squibs—without any magic. However, much like the mystery of her parents past and the time they refused to speak of, Cara could only wonder why.

"Of course there'll be Firewhiskey." Cara smirked through the cold that nipped at her nose and fingertips, "How else are we expected to party?"

Hermione scoffed, clearly taken back by Cara's blatant reasoning, "There are many other ways, Charlotte," Cara recoiled at the use of her full name, nose wrinkling in distaste, "Alcohol _doesn't_ have to be one."

"Oh, come off it, 'Mione," Ron interrupted, throwing an arm around her shoulder in a very similar, but much lazier, fashion, "Just for once, relax."

A muffled 'ow' escaped Ron's lips as Hermione elbowed him, a heavy frown upon her lips.

"You can't be serious, Ron," The fluffy-haired girl scowled, "Harry's life is practically in danger! Sirius Black—"

"The castle is surrounded by Dementors, Hermione," Angelina cut her off, clearly annoyed by the tangent the younger girl was about to go on. The threat of Sirius Black weighed heavily on each student—no one was able to completely forget the issue at hand; and, despite the Slytherin's attitude, Cara had seen their frightened glances they shared when they thought no one was looking.

 _Colors are simply a shade, yet no one sees the same._ Her Dad wrote that in his last letter. The words, the riddle he gave him, still did not make sense. Even Amy was confused by his words. Obviously he was talking about Sirius Black—his last name was a color—but ' _no one sees the same_ '? Yes, everyone perceived colored and shades differently. No one color was the same to another person. Cara wrote to Liam later that night and he (he! her brother who had graduated and now had a job with the Ministry) didn't understand their Dad's words. When she finally wrote back to her Dad, he simply brushed off her question and spoke about a completely new—completely boring—topic.

"Sirius Black couldn't get past them if he tried," The Gryffindor chaser said, her tone clearly signaling that the conversation was over.

"Unless he's already in the castle," Cara muttered, her mind swirling—muddled like when she had too much Firewhiskey. But she hadn't, so why did she feel like she was trapped in a fog? A fog that caused her mind to run blank. A fog that made it hard to see what was ahead because…because she only saw…what was she seeing?

"—Hara!" A rough clap to her shoulder, the familiar scent of cinnamon and smoke, lightly tainted by sweat, flooded the area around her, "How'd you like the match?"

" _George_ ," Cara emphasized his name, directing her stare towards the younger twin, "Was quite impressive."

She practically felt Fred deflate next to her.

"Oh, he really was," Amy joined, clearly _not_ seeing that Cara was messing with the older Weasley twin, "Did you see the way he stopped the bludger from hitting Katie? It was incredible!"

A rosy blush momentarily coated George's cheeks. Whether it was because of Amy's praise or the fact that he'd been so quick to protect Katie from the bludger hadn't gone unnoticed, Cara didn't know. Katie, too, looked rather flattered and flustered by Amy's claim.

"Angelina and Alicia were also brilliant," Her sister continued, completely oblivious to Katie and George's quick glances and the grins that hadn't left their faces, "Ravenclaw needs to get their act together—I can't believe we already lost."

"Don't let Wood hear you say that," Fred said, throwing his arm around Cara—who recoiled at how sweaty he was—"He'll point out fifteen different ways we failed."

"But we won." Cara stated.

"Eh, it's Wood. We don't win until we play a 'perfect' game."

Cara snorted, "Like that'll happen with you on the team."

"Love, compared to your ability to even get on a broom, I _am_ perfect."

"You're more like a dying ember with that hair of yours."

"Dying ember?" Fred pulled away, mock hurt crossing his features as he held his hand to his chest, "A dying ember? O'Hara, I'm hurt."

"You'll get over it," Cara said, flashing a smile sweeter than honey before turning her attention back towards Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and George. Her sister had long left them, hurrying off to some of her Ravenclaw friends. There was no doubt in Cara's mind they were going to talk about the book Amy had been carrying the past few days. _What a loser_ , she thought.

Dew stuck to her sneakers and stained the bottoms of her jeans as she trudged along. Fred and George were bringing candy they'd gotten from Honeydukes, Katie had some left over pastries her Mum sent her for good luck, Cara—begrudgingly—agreed to bring whatever chocolate Alicia hadn't eaten, and Angelina promised to bring a few lemon drops. There was no rush to get back to the castle. Lunch was being served later than normal because of the match and the celebration wasn't going to be until later tonight. Even if they did end up missing lunch, an incident that happened more times than Cara liked to count, the kitchens were always available.

Stumbling into the courtyard, a mere few steps from the entrance, Cara stood. There was no doubt in her mind that Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were going to hurry to their dorms to shower. Fred and George…well, she only hoped they would. Cinnamon and smoke could only cover so much.

"I'll meet you in the Great Hall?" Cara checked, pulling her braid over her shoulder. Angelina and Alicia nodded, exhaustion hanging heavily under their eyes, "Or do you want me to bring you some food?"

"Could you?" Angelina asked, barely containing a yawn. The once powerful rush of adrenaline was quickly leaving her: her eyes struggling to stay open and her shoulders drooping. Alicia was in no better shape.

"Yeah, of course." Cara said, "Katie, you're more than welcome to take my bed."

It became a tradition for the younger girl to come over at the end of a Quidditch match. The four of them—sometimes five if Amy decided to join them—would get ready for the party as they talked and joked around. It was also a tradition for the three Quidditch players to take a nap beforehand. How fun would a party be if you couldn't keep your eyes open?

"Merlin, Cara, you're the best," Katie praised, "Can I use that blanket your Mum got you?"

"Sure."

It wasn't anything special—well, not to Cara. For her eleventh birthday, and to celebrate her getting her Hogwarts letter, Cara's parents gave her a vermillion blanket. Appearing to be a normal blanket, one only knew how different it was once they threw it on. It was a gift each of her sibling got for their first year away from home. While her Mum picked out the color—which was the color of their birth month—her Dad bewitched it to warm up once someone used it. In other words, it was a heated blanket.

"I'll see you in fifteen!" Cara said, waving a quick goodbye before turning on her heels and heading towards the Great Hall. Silently, she ran through a mental list of what each girl would want. Angelina, shepherd's pie; Alicia, stew; Katie, chips and some chicken. They ate the same thing after every game. It was, in a sense, their comfort food.

Muffled conversations filled the Great Hall. Barely anyone was there and it brought Cara some joy when she realized there was no one to converse with. The sooner she got the food, the quicker she could go to her room and change into something more comfortable. Sure her jeans were nice and all but, after standing in the wind and misty fog for a few hours, all she wanted to do was huddle under her blankets in sweats and one of her Liam's sweatshirts. One that he had _given_ to her, thank you very much. She did _not_ steal it.

"Oh, Cara!" A familiar voice called, causing Cara to freeze as she scooped some mashed potatoes onto a plate. As much as she enjoyed Jessica's company, she wasn't really in the mood to answer twenty questions about Fred. Hell, she barely had time to speak with him today with the match and all.

With a sigh, Cara plastered a polite—yet tired—smile on her face and turned around:

"Jess, how are you?"

"Did you see Fred?" _Ah, of course_ , "Wasn't he amazing in today's game? Do you think he saw my outfit? Of course I didn't have the real one, but I thought this one was close enough."

Patiently, like a mother talking to her child, Cara said, "I did see Fred and he was pretty great in today's game. I don't know if he saw your outfit or not, but I think he appreciates the thought."

Jessica looked positively crestfallen at Cara's words—like she couldn't believe Fred hadn't noticed her. Blue eyes downcast and full of sorrow, pinks lips pulled into a frown, and brows furrowed with discontent, the Ravenclaw beauty gave off the appearance of someone who had a recent breakup.

"He didn't see me?" Jessica murmured, her gaze still on the floor, "Even after everything I went through to get this jersey."

Cara hated to admit it, but she felt bad for Jessica. Sure, she was annoying and a bit obsessive and tended to live in a fantasy world rather than a real one, but that didn't mean Cara liked seeing her upset. Truthfully, Cara knew that Fred _hadn't_ seen Jessica. Especially if the Ravenclaw was in the stands with the other Gryffindors, it would be almost impossible for him to tell her apart. Hell, the only reason he would be able to spot Cara is if she attended the game with his siblings—whose hair was so distinct it was hard to miss.

"Well," Cara shuffled awkwardly, "You could always try and talk to him at tonight's party?"

"You really think I could?" Jessica looked up at her with teary doe-like eyes.

"Uh, yeah," She nodded, pulling out her want and muttering a quick ' _Wingardium Leviosa'_ under her breath. The three plates she filled lifted from the table, and Cara quickly grabbed her own, "Just talk to him."

"But I want _him_ to talk to _me_." Jessica stated, stomping her foot slightly and reminding Cara of her five-year-old sister, Eloise. "I did all this for him and he didn't even notice, Cara! Do you know how stupid that makes me feel?"

"No." Cara said, "Because he was in the _middle_ of a _match_."

"So that gives him an excuse to not notice me?"

There was only so much stupidity that Cara could handle. She thought herself to be a relatively patient person—one that was always there and willing to listen to a friend, or anyone, in need. Still, there was only so much Cara could take. Most of the time, Cara could deal with Jessica. She could deal with the questions about Fred, the complaints about Fred, and the yearning for Fred. What she would _not_ stand for, was the absolute selfishness of the situation.

"Yeah, Jess, it does." She said, and, with that, Cara turned on her heels and left the Great Hall.

Fuming, she hurried up the steps, nearly slipping at one point but much too angry to care. _Merlin_ , Cara scowled _, that girl needs a wakeup call! What century does she think it is? If you want a guy's attention, go talk to them_. The walk back to the Common Room felt like record time and, when she approached the portrait of The Fat Lady, she turned around to make sure she was _actually_ there. _Damn, look at me go_.

"Ah! You look like you're in a splendid mood, dear," The Fat Lady crooned and Cara merely stared blankly at her, "Would a song cheer you up? I've been practicing—"

"I really can't right now," She said, but, upon seeing the Fat Lady's frown, continued with, "If you've been practicing, I'd like to hear it when I'm in a better mood. _Fortuna Major_."

Cara didn't bother to see The Fat Lady's reaction, rushing through the door as soon as it opened. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sat in front of the fireplace and appeared to be in the midst of a rather intense conversation. Hermione was anxiously gnawing on her lip, Harry was staring into the fire—looking as though he lost something in it, and Ron was gauging the two's expressions. The other people in the Common Room were too lost in their own worlds, not that Cara could blame them.

"Honestly, Harry, you need to tell Dumbledore." She heard Hermione say to Harry as she walked past them, throwing a smile to the bright witch when their eyes met.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Cara stopped in front of her door. Even though she was upset—furious even—she didn't want to wake her friends from their sleep.

"Breathe, Cara," She murmured to herself, before taking a deep inhale. Clearing her mind, she tried to forget about the conversation she had with Jessica. She forced herself to forget Jessica's words, her attitude, and the pure _stupidity_ of the conversation. _When you open your eyes, just forget you even saw Jessica_ , she told herself. Slowly, she exhaled and opened her eyes. Pushing the door open, Cara was glad that she waited. Warmth filled her chest at the sight of her friends all snuggled up together on her bed, the heated blanket covering them all.


End file.
